1 Revenge
by FunkyFish1991
Summary: ..First in a series.. New FBI agent Sam Manson's first case is a whirlwind of action and mystery. Struggling with annoying teammates, meddling strangers and death threats, can Sam solve the clues in time to save a woman's life...?
1. Prologue: Detectives

**A/N - i own nothing you recognize, but i own everything you don't. and don't yell at me for not updating Phantasy, if you were planning to. i have tons of back-up material for this story, so it isnt taking up my writing time!!!**

**okay, this is the prologue of a series of detective stories i'm writing, starring Sam. Also featuring our favourite ghost boy (duh) a bit later on.**

**hope you like it!!!!**

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**_Prologue_: Detectives**

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**"Suspect is entering the room. Copy? Over." 

The machine crackled loudly as she pushed her pigtails over her shoulders and put her lips to the mouthpiece.

"Roger. T minus three seconds. Over."

"Roger."

"Roger. I'm going in!"

She leapt up from her hiding place with a battle cry and threw the duvet cover over the oblivious figure that had just entered the room. The smothered person let out a small shriek as she was tackled to the ground.

"Oh my God!" She screamed. "Let me go!"

"Suspect is caughted. Over and out!"

The furiously writhing girl under the cloth finally struggled her way out from under it and glared murder at the small girl still happily clutching its corner. Their heads both snapped to the door as it whooshed open to admit a young dark-haired boy, skipping with excitement.

"We caughted her Sam! We caughted her!"

"Matt!" Sam snapped crossly. "Be cool."

Matt stopped skipping and hung his head in apology. The girl released the sheet and went to high-five her comrade.

Meanwhile the teen who had been apprehended stood, brushing herself off, though there was nothing on her to brush off, and jammed a loosened earphone back in her ear.

"What the hell are you freaks doing?" She demanded loudly.

"We're detectives."

"Oh, right, detectives, of course!" She hissed, her voice dripping venom and sarcasm. "Well from now on you keep your stupid games away from me!" She finished with a yell.

Her little cousin was smiling up at her. "We winned though Katie. We caughted you!"

"'Caughted' is not a word, Samantha." Katie informed her imperiously, tilting her nose into the air. "Now, both of you – get out of my room!"

The two children smirked happily and darted out of the room. They ran downstairs and into the garden, eventually collapsing next to each other in the grass, rolling around, still giddy with excitement.

"Matt, we're good detectives, aren't we?" Sam asked, sitting up and picking at one of her pigtails.

"We're the best detectives there ever was." Her friend assured her, pulling up a clump of grass and watching it fall through his stubby fingers. "But we're only pretend detectives."

"I'm going to be a real detective one day Matt," she informed her friend happily. "And I'm going to have some real handcuffs and a magnifying glass and I'm going to catch bad men."

"Can I come with you, Sam?" He asked tentatively.

"Of course. You have to be my partner."

"Will," he paused, turning pink. "Will we be married?"

"Of course not!" She giggled. His face fell, but she did not notice. "I'll be far too busy being important."

"Well then, well then maybe I won't be a detective with you then." He choked, turning his back on her.

She was stunned. "Wh-what do you mean? What will you be instead?"

He turned back to face her. "I don't, I'll be… I'll be in the army!"

"The army!"

"Yes!" He cried. "I'll be a," his mind shot back to a report his dad had been watching on the television yesterday. "I'll be a Navy SEAL."

"A seal!"

"Yes, a seal."

She began to laugh uncontrollably.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked, both hurt and confused.

"You can't be a seal! You don't like to swim!"

"Oh." Matt was deep in thought. "Well, I guess I'll be your partner then."

She beamed happily and threw her arms around him.

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

She leapt up, grabbing his hand to pull her with him. "Well if you're going to be a detective you've gotta be able to run real fast!"

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes at how clueless he was. "To catch the bad guys, silly!"

"Oh, of course."

"So," she said, beaming. "Catch me if you can!" And off she ran.

Matt laughed and ran after her. He was gaining on her, and she looked around her garden. There was nowhere else to run. She turned to the side gate. Perfect! She ran straight for it, opening the latch and sprinting along the side of her house. She ran out into the road, Matt right behind her, not even realizing she had left the safety of the pavement, not even noticing the car coming up from her left.

The car that just missed her.

But she stopped dead when she heard the vicious squealing of wheels, the hissing of an engine, a yell of agony, and the horrific silence.

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**whatcha think? give me a review please!!! it _is_ just the prologue, so if you think it's too short...that's why!**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


	2. One: Sam

**A/N - again, i own nothing you recognize, but everything you don't**

**chapter uno...u likey - please review!!!**

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_One_: Sam

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"Eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one," she breathed as she heaved her body up on the bar in her room. "Ninety-five, ninety-six,"

There was a knock on her door. She ignored it. "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred." She dropped a few inches to the floor, picked up a blue towel lying on the end of her bed, and walked to the door, wiping her face that bore her efforts of the past half hour. Her arms ached from the chin ups, press ups and weights she had been lifting, and the rest of her ached from the sit ups, lunges, stretches and almost every other imaginable exercise activity one could do in your one's that she had just been doing.

She swung open the door, her chest rising and falling heavily, to see her friend Lila standing in front of her, her back poker-straight, her hands clasped behind her back, her feet planted solidly on the ground.

"Ugh," the brunette greeted. "Sam, you stink."

"Thanks. Exercise will do that. You should try it," Sam quipped, knowing full well that Lila woke up before three every morning and exercised solidly until seven, when she showered and went downstairs to eat. Sam herself preferred exercising during the day, when there was nothing else to do. The thought of waking up any time before five filled her with horror.

Lila raised an eyebrow. Sam knew she was amused but was trying to suppress the laugh. Lila never laughed if she could avoid it.

"Shower, then be downstairs by fifteen hundred hours." Lila said curtly.

"Why?" Sam asked, wiping her face again.

"There's someone here to see you."

Sam smiled. "Aw, Lila, you shouldn't have!"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's real sweet and all of you to go and get me a blind date, but, really, I'm fine with being single."

Lila snorted. She thought boyfriends, husbands; men in general, really, were pointless. She looked forward to the day women ruled the world. Sam thought the idea was hilarious. She agreed that boyfriends were a waste of time when one was a Navy SEAL, but as partners and team mates, men were useful enough.

"Go shower."

And with that the slightly older woman turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor, passing the elevator and pushing open the stairwell door.

Sam rolled her eyes and, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, eased the door closed. She followed Lila's instructions, scrubbing her black hair almost fitfully. She was thinking about who could possibly be here to see her. If it had been family, Lila would have told her.

Then again, her family had no reason to come visit her. Her only living relative was Katie, her sister, who had just turned twenty-six and had triplets. Sam could not stand her sister's husband. She had met the man twice and both times they almost came to blows. Her hands curled into fists as she thought about it, before relaxing and going back to assisting the stream of water in rinsing out the remains of the shampoo.

No, family was not an option. Friends? She laughed. No. Her only friends were at the base, here, with her.

Who else? She paused, half-way through washing her face. Then she began again. She could think of no one else who would visit her, so it obviously was not anyone she knew. Maybe she was being arrested.

"Cool," she murmured to herself as she stepped out of the shower and yanked a large towel off of the rack.

By ten to three she was fully dressed in her uniform and heading downstairs. She did not notice that she was walking faster than usual, and that underneath her tight French braid, her neck was sweating.

_What would anyone want with me? _She was a Commander, in charge of Task Unit 8223, codenamed _Wolf_. She was highly ranked, and quite honestly, was not best liked for it. Most people, men especially, often treated her with disdain, apart from her team mates in _Wolf_, whom she had bailed out of trouble, and even rescued from death, numerous times. They were her only friends.

Lila was waiting for her in the lobby when she stepped out of the elevator. Sam was highly enough ranked to have her own apartment in the Commanders' building, instead of having to live in the barracks. She had hated the barracks. It was like boarding school all over again.

The two women marched towards the main building, an ugly, stereotypically militaristic piece of architecture with the SEALs' golden symbol over the main entrance. Lila showed her through the maze of corridors, and finally they stopped in front of two imposing double doors. Lila motioned for her to go in.

Sam pushed open the left door and stepped into the room.

A long, oval table was in the middle of the room, and at the far end about ten people were crowded around it. She recognized half of them, as several of them were her superior officers. They all looked up as she entered. She saluted them curtly, waiting as they returned the gesture, then sharply lowered her hand, watching as they did the same.

"Samantha," Commander Hawke barked. She did not like him, and he did not like her. He had flirted mercilessly with her two years ago when she joined the center, and one night he had, taken it too far.

She had hospitalized him.

His eyes followed her as she crossed the room towards them. Colonel Burkes motioned for her to take a seat opposite a platinum blonde woman. They were the only two sitting, and everyone else stood ominously over them.

Sam was almost bursting with curiosity, but stifled all her questions.

"Samantha Manson."

The woman spoke. Sam inspected her closely. She looked to be about forty, with silvering blonde hair, nondescript brown eyes and a pinched expression. But, Sam noticed, there were some severe laugh lines around her mouth, and pronounced crow's feet framed her eyes. She guessed that this woman was always up for a laugh if it was offered.

She looked at the woman's clothing. She wore an expensive grey suit with a herringbone pattern, rimless glasses on a silver chain and a black shirt underneath the suit. Her cuffs and collar were meticulously buttoned, pressed and folded. Her collar was stiffer than Sam would have thought possible. But the outfit looked well loved, slightly faded, a little tattered on the edges and, Sam noticed with a start, the button was missing on the pocket of the suit.

Sam decided she liked the woman. She looked firm and strict, but willing to listen and negotiate. She looked as though she might emerge as a budding party animal at parties, but would make a fantastic boss.

"Yes, ma'am," Sam replied instantly, proffering a hand. The woman shook it cordially, then adjusted her glasses smoothly. She held a file in her hand, but did not as much as glance at it before speaking again.

"You are the Samantha Manson that carried out the Lion Objective?"

"Yes." Dangerous mission that had been. She could not remember a time a rescue mission had required so much planning, guts, timing and, basically, insanity.

But she and _Wolf _had made it. Teams rule.

"Yes. Very impressive indeed."

"Thank you."

"Yes…" her voice petered off. Sam almost began to gnaw her lip in curiosity.

"If I might ask," the woman looked at her. "Why did you want to see me?"

The woman removed her glasses. "My name is Sarah Herman. I work for the FBI."

_So I _am _being arrested, _Sam thought with a smile.

Sarah rose from her chair. She walked over to stand beside and over Sam, placing a hand on her chair.

"How would you like to be a detective?"

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**review pleeeeeeeeeeeease!!!!**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


	3. Two: Help

**A/N - i ne own danny phantom pas. yes that is french. sort of. oh shush.**

**ok action actually begins in this chapter...so enjoy!!!!**

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_Three_: Help

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Sam peered up at the apartment block. It was looming forty stories above her. She was on the – she inspected the key again – twenty first floor. She really hoped there was an elevator. 

She scooped up her two shoulder bags and grabbed the handle of her oversized wheelie suitcase. She entered the building and saw, to her relief, an elevator, right in front of her.

She opened her new door speedily with the key, spilling into the room in a mess of bags, clothes and flailing limbs. She stood up, used to her own clumsiness, and collected her various belongings. She righted the black suitcase that had gotten stuck in the door so she could close it. She looked up at her new apartment.

It was nice. Bland, perhaps. It needed some colored paint and better furniture, but it showed promise. She unpacked quickly and showered to rid herself of the traveling feeling that hung around her after flying.

She peered out of her window as she dried her hair with a small towel, a larger one wrapped around her. It looked like a city. She guessed Amity Park was nothing special, apart from being reputed to be heavily haunted. But Sam didn't believe than rubbish. She shrugged and turned around, heading back to her bathroom. On her way she peered at the art deco clock on the wall.

"Shit!" She gasped, dropping the small towel and sprinting into the bathroom, skidding around the doorframe.

She had ten minutes to get to work.

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She leapt out of the taxi after thrusting a bill at the driver, clutching her oversized handbag to her chest, her coat billowing out behind her as she raced up the stairs of the FBI offices. 

She flew through the building, knowing the floor – 6. The elevator crawled up its shaft as she cursed it in every language she knew to go faster. It did not. When the doors pinged open, she slipped sideways through the widening gap and sped down the corridor, glancing at every door on her way. Unit 601, Unit 602, Unit 603…. She went faster, skidding around corners and sliding to a stop outside her door.

Unit 615.

She breathed deeply and pushed the door open. People peered up at her.

She smiled at them nervously, instantly questioning herself. Was this the right room? Was she on the wrong floor? Was she even supposed to be here? Had she just dreamed up Sarah Herman and her job offer?

A woman detached herself from a trio of people clustered around a computer screen. One of the men was wearing a waistcoat and had a lollipop in his mouth, and the other had slicked back hair and wore a white shirt open at the collar. She did not much like the look of either of them.

The woman approaching her was little better. She wore a charcoal grey pencil skirt and an indigo shirt. Her hair was down, feathered around her face. She looked a little stern.

Scratch that. She looked bitchy.

"Hi," she greeted, stopping to stand with her weight on one leg and her hand on her hip. She eyed Sam up and down. "I guess you're the new girl."

Sam bit back all the comments she could have made in favor of reaching out a hand in greeting. The woman stared at it, then ignored it and turned back to Sam's face.

"Yeah," Sam said, disconcertedly retracting her hand. "I'm Sam Manson. Nice to meet you."

"Jennie Douglas, 'Jennie' with an 'ie'."

"Oh, okay."

Jennie turned. "This is Unit 615." She moved forward, and Sam assumed she was supposed to follow her. Jennie pointed out people as she said their names. There were four men and then herself and Jennie in the team altogether.

"That's Keith Johns," Jennie said, pointing rudely at the lollipop man. "Alex Donavan," she gestured to the man with slicked hair. "And over there are Jake Rogers and Mick Ruddy." Two blond men sat at their desks, but peered over when they heard their names.

Jake stood. His hair was white blond, and his nose was far too small for his face. He eyed Sam in a way that made her need to pull her shoulder bag in front of her body.

"Is this the new girl?" His voice made Sam shiver. Besides, at twenty-two, she was hardly a girl.

"Yeah, this is Susie,"

"Sam-antha." She was about to just tell them her nickname, but for some reason she did not want this man to use it. She fell silent.

"Welcome to the team, Sammy." He sat back down with a smirk.

Her nose wrinkled at the name she hated. Oh well, just another reason for her to hate him.

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Her desk was alright. It was in a cubicle, so at least she had some privacy. Her first day was boring. Nothing happened. She was not quite sure how things worked here. After three hours of Tetris, she rose. 

"I'm going to get a drink." She walked speedily to the door.

"Hey babe – get me a beer?"

She hoped Jake would just think she had not heard him as she closed the door. She strode down the corridor to the elevator. The common room, she had gathered, was on the tenth floor. She exited the elevator and saw, to her relief, the door labeled 'Common Room' right before her. She entered and went right for the water dispenser.

She downed five cups before gasping a huge breath and collapsing on the sofa beside her. She heard a low guffaw from next to her and her head snapped up. A black-haired man sat next to her on the sofa, his azure blue eyes laughing.

"Stop laughing at me."

"Sorry. First day?"

"Yep. How'd you know?"

"Well, I've never seen you before, and you look," he peered at the cup I had used five times. "Flustered."

I snorted. "Are things always so boring around here?"

"Depends. Which unit are you?"

"615."

"Yeah, I don't think that unit has had much work for about a month now."

"Why?"

His face hardened. "They, had some troubles," he drew out the last word emphatically. "With behavior."

"Oh. Is that why one of them was fired?"

"Pretty much."

They fell silent. Sam picked at her cup while he stared into space. She turned to him again, not reaching out her hand this time, in case he did not take it.

"I'm Sam Manson."

He stuck out his hand. "Fenton."

"What Fenton?"

"Well, everyone usually just yells 'Fenton'. Or 'Fentina'." He added the last part in a slight grumble.

She pursed her lips. "Too boring. I'll call you 'Fentonio'."

"God help me!" He yelped, standing. "Anything but that! My first name's Daniel. Just, don't call me 'Fentonio'." He said the name with a feigned shiver of revulsion, lightening Sam's mood.

She laughed. "Alright. Deal." She could not resist adding it. "Danny." He gave her an amused look, but let it go.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss Manson," he said, offering a hand to help her up. She took it and rose to her feet, barely reaching his chin. "And I hope we do so again."

She looked up at him. "Do what?"

"Uh, meet."

"Oh! Right!" she stammered, mentally hitting herself. "Sorry."

He nodded, then turned as she did to throw away her cup. When she moved back to say good bye, he had gone.

"Humph," she sighed. "I don't even know which floor he's on. Maybe he doesn't even work here. Maybe he's a janitor." She sighed again crossly, then marched out of the door and back up to her office.

She peered around the door to her office. She could not see Jake in her path so she sidled in quickly.

"Sammy!" She cringed and halted, wheeling around to face him. She did not want to turn her back to the man for a second.

He was holding a flower. It was a giant orange daisy. She felt herself warm to him a little.

"There you go!" He said, thrusting it at her with a cheesy grin, then walking off cockily. Sam angled her head at him as he left, confused. She shook it off and walked to her cubicle. On the way she passed Jennie's desk, sitting on which she saw a vase of orange giant daisies. As soon as she reached her own cubicle she threw Jake's 'gift' right into the trash disdainfully.

"Dick." She muttered venomously.

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She had counted herself at thirteen chair spins maximum on her swiveling chair before the phone rang. She practically leapt at it, desperate for something to do, someone to talk to, anything besides the numbing silence or the grating chatter and cackles coming from her teammates, with whom she was not best impressed at the moment. 

"Hello?" She asked, trying to sound cool.

"Hello?" a voice trembled on the line. The woman sounded, frantic, no – terrified.

"Yes, what's wrong?" Sam asked quickly, sitting up straight.

"Please help me. My name is Kathleen Allen and I'm at 45 Lake House." The woman managed to calmly gave Sam the information necessary as Sam scribbled it on a pad of paper, though an undercurrent of desperation and fear tinged her voice.

"Okay, what's the matter Miss Allen?"

"There's a…" her voice trailed off and Sam heard a faint tapping.

"Oh my God!" Kathleen shrieked, her control snapping. "Please! Help me!"

Sam's eyes widened as she heard a scream, a loud thump, shuffling. Then a menacing, masculine voice could be heard. Sam struggled but could not hear the words he spoke. She heard a noise, like metal striking metal, and then a loud manly shout of pain.

"Please!" Kathleen begged. "Help–"

The line went dead.


	4. Three: Call

**A/N - i still dont own anything but what you don't** **recognize.**

**ok, this is actually chapter three. i accidently said the last chapter was. it's not. sorry!**

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_Three_: Call

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"Miss Allen? Miss Allen! Kathleen!" Sam screeched into the phone, pulling it away from her ear and staring at it like it was a viper. She threw it into the cradle, snatching up the paper with the information from Kathleen on it, and flew to the door. 

Jennie intercepted her, grabbing her arm viciously.

"What the hell was that?"

"A woman called, she needed help – she sounded desperate!"

"We're detectives, Miss Manson, not bodyguards."

Sam practically snarled at her. "You have anything else better to do? Fine! But I'm going!"

She jerked her arm from Jennie's hold and sprinted to the elevator. She punched a button and waited, practically bouncing in worry for it to come. The doors slid open and she was about to press the first floor button when two figures rounded the corner.

"Samantha!" Jennie called. "Wait for us!"

Sam held the door while Jennie and the man she knew was Mick Ruddy entered the elevator before pressing the button. Once again as the elevator moved she willed it to speed up. She hated how slow elevators all were.

They went into the garage to get Mick's car, and they sped off to 45 Lake House.

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Sam knocked on the door cautiously, yet briskly. She did not know what to expect behind the door. When nobody answered, she knocked again. 

Nothing.

She swallowed. Where was Kathleen? What happened to her? Was she alright?

"What now?" Mick asked. Sam had briefed them on the frantic phone call in the car on the way there. They had both sounded very concerned for the woman.

"I guess we go back to our center and check out Kathleen Allen, this apartment – and whoever might want to hurt her. Why she called the FBI instead of the police."

They both nodded.

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When they arrived back in their office, the other three members of the team greeted them with puzzlement and a tinge of excitement. If Mr Daniel Fenton, whom Sam had encountered in the Common Room, was to be trusted, this was the first case their team had handled in a while. 

"Plan of action?" Jake asked. The five of them seemed to turn to her. She was a little taken aback, but her military experience certainly qualified her to take charge.

"Okay," she began, putting her hands behind her back, as she was used to doing whilst giving orders. "We need to find out everything we can. Jennie and Mick, I need you to find everything on Kathleen Allen, Jake and Alex you research that apartment, who lived there, who owns it, is it rented out, how expensive and old it is et cetera." The four scuttled to their computers.

Sam turned to the other man. "Keith, you and I are going to try to get a warrant to search that apartment. Can you get the tape of my conversation, and I'll go speak to the men upstairs." Keith nodded, lollipop stick bobbing, and hurtled over to her desk, with her hot on his trail.

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They returned victoriously half an hour later, with a warrant, and Keith tossing the tiny cassette around in his hands. He dropped it clumsily on the ground the moment the pair entered the room, and Sam rolled her eyes at him. 

"We got it," she announced to the four people in the room, finding them still hard at work. She walked over to Jennie's cubicle where the other woman and Mick sat, staring at the screen.

"Got anything?"

"Yeah." Mick said, clicking on a minimized Word document. It was titled 'Kathleen Michelle Allen', and about five pages of information ensued.

"Whoa." Sam said, eyes widening. "Got anything important?"

"How about this?" Mick asked, rolling the cursor over a paragraph. "She's the daughter of a judge. Judge Anthony Allen."

"Okay," Sam said, hoping he was going somewhere with this.

"But wait, there's more."

"Good."

"Six years ago Judge Allen presided over the case of a one Cory Tanner, thrice accused rapist and suspected murderer. Tanner was given twenty years, but – get this – escaped last month. I already checked it out."

"What!" Sam gasped, incredulous. "How the hell did he break out of prison?"

"During confession, the guy was some sort of bodybuilder, gymnast, person, I'm not quite sure. But he escaped – killing a priest and two prison guards on the way, I might add."

"Wow." Sam said, her shoulders slumping. "So, what happened to Judge Allen?"

"He was in a car crash with Miss Allen's mother two years ago."

"God," Sam said, rubbing her arm. She tried to get inside this man's head, knowing that that was the best way to deal with criminals. "So this guy sits in prison, getting more and more bitter, and then he finally breaks out of prison, wanting to get revenge on the guy who put him in there..."

Jennie continued. "He finds out the guy's already dead. He's furious, so he goes for the only person left he can..."

"Our Miss Kathleen Allen, daughter of his sworn enemy." Mick finished dramatically.

"Damn," Jennie breathed.

"Okay, so we have a suspect. A good suspect. But we still need to find out what happened to Kathleen."

Sam stood up straight and went over to Jake and Alex.

"Any luck?"

"Well, the apartment is rented out by a Mary Corr, who lives in the apartment next door. Miss Allen has lived in the apartment for four years now, alone."

"Sounds good. Let's go."

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Sam, Jennie and Mick set off once more for Lake House. Mick parked the car and the three of them entered the building, going for number 46 this time, which was also on the fourth floor. 

Sam knocked on the door and after a little while, a woman wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants opened it wide.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Samantha Manson, and these are Jennifer Douglas and Michael Ruddy, we work for the FBI." The three of them showed her their badges.

"Um, alright," Mary Corr said, looking taken aback. "What do you want with me?"

"Actually, we need to get into the apartment next door – number 45?"

"Why?"

"We have reason to believe that the occupant has come to harm."

"Kathy?"

"Kathleen Allen."

The woman looked a little worried. "Yes, yesterday I heard some strange noises coming from there earlier."

"What kind?"

"Bumping, and some yelling. I thought it was, a, uh, male, uh, _visitor_." She eyed Sam until she got the idea. Her violet eyes widened.

"Oh, I see. Does Miss Allen entertain, uh, _visitors_, often?"

"Yeah, pretty often. But then I heard a scream of, well it sounded a bit like, fear. It was Kathy. I didn't really think much of it though. I hear all kinds of things from that apartment."

"I see. So, you didn't see anyone leave, or enter?"

"Well, no, I didn't go check it out. I wouldn't know if anyone left or went in."

"Okay, thank you Miss Corr. Could we possibly have a key?"

"Sure, one second."

She scuttled into her apartment, and the trio heard some jingling. She reappeared in a moment with a small silver key.

"There you go. Good luck."

"Thank you for the key - and for the help."

Mary closed the door softly as they moved to the next door and inserted the key. Mick pushed the door open warily and peered around. Sam assumed he did not see anything immediately dangerous as he opened the door the rest of the way and walked in ahead of them.

They scoured the apartment, and found nothing much until they entered the bedroom. It was ransacked. Everything was strewn everywhere, the bed was broken, the cupboard smashed in.

Blood was smeared across one of the walls. Jennie shrieked at the sight, and even Sam had to restrain a shudder. Mick gawked at it as Sam moved further into the room. There were definite signs of a struggle – mussed clothes, the rug on the floor was in an unusual place by the bed and one side was folded over. There was a clump of hair on the floor. Sam crouched beside it. It was blonde, and long. It was frayed at the ends, as if it had been torn right from someone's head. Sam cringed at the idea.

She stood up slowly and picked her way over to the cupboard. The door had been ripped off its hinges, and also looked as though someone had been kicking through the panels. Sam bent down to peer inside. There was a cordless phone lying in with the clothes that had fallen from their hangers when the bar had been ripped from its mooring, along with a short, sharp, bloodied kitchen knife. Sam was getting a picture in her head of what had been happening when she had been called.

"We need a forensics team." Sam turned to the other two, still immobile and staring at the blood on the wall.

Suddenly the phone rang. The three of them glanced at each other. Sam was the first to shift, moving out of the room, painstakingly careful not to disturb anything.

The phone rang again. She entered the living room. The phone was lying on the table – it matched the one in the cupboard, that she did not really want to disturb.

Sam glanced around, then went and grabbed a kitchen towel from the rack in the next room. The phone rang once more. Sam wrapped the cloth over her hand and gripped the phone as it rang again. She pressed the green button and held it to her ear, careful not to let it actually touch her skin.

"Hello?"

"Is this the police?"

Sam frowned. "Uh, no – that's 911."

"Don't try and be funny. Are you here for Kathleen Allen?"

"Yes."

"I figured someone would be showing up there, when I caught that bitch with the phone."

Sam felt ill. This was the attacker. She summoned all her strength to continue.

"So who are you?" he demanded.

"FBI."

Sam heard a growled curse from the man. "She'll pay for this."

"I know it's you, Cory."

The man sounded taken aback. "H-how did you know?"

"Federal Bureau of _Investigation_, Mr Tanner. I'm a detective."

"And far too clever for your own good."

"Am I supposed to be afraid? You don't even know my name."

He chuckled. The sound slithered up her spine and she could not suppress a shiver.

"No, not now. But you wait missy. You wait."

She swallowed, feeling her bravado slipping away. She called it back with everything inside her. She could not let him know of her terror.

"What do you want Mr Tanner?"

"Please, my dear, call me Cory."

"Are you going to kill her, Mr Tanner?"

He tusked her patronizingly. "Being a little forward are we? Feathers ruffled? Scared, perhaps?"

"Not likely."

"You tell yourself that."

She began to feel anger swell in her but managed to keep it from her voice.

"You didn't answer my question."

"No, no I didn't." He paused. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

She realized the answer just before he voiced it.

"Yes, I am going to kill her. But don't you worry; you won't feel guilty for letting me get away with it."

"And how can you be so sure?"

Once more, her mind spoke the answer as he did.

"Because I am going to kill you, my dear."

* * *

**ooo a threat...and something's happening!!! please review and i will update sooner!!!!**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


	5. Four: Key

**A/N - danny phantom isnt mine :p dammit.**

* * *

_Four_: Key

* * *

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She fought it. He did not even know who she was. He could not touch her. She could not convince herself. 

He whispered darkly into the phone. "Scared now?"

"Not in the slightest."

He chuckled once more, the horrible tingles spreading through her again.

"That's my girl."

"Why have you not killed her yet?"

"Oh, my. You're very forward aren't you my dear? No matter. Why have I not killed her?" He laughed sadistically. "What would be the fun in killing her right away? The daughter of my enemy will suffer, as I suffered." His voice was rising with anger and passion. "She will scream and she will beg and she will cry for mercy but none with come!" He was screaming into the phone now. "And then, then, when you die – so will she."

"Why do you want to kill me?"

He just laughed. "You must be new. You're so naïve."

She almost spat back a retort, but sensed that he had let his guard down, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Why do I want to kill you?" He left the question unanswered, floating in the long silence that followed. He finally spoke. "Well, I know you won't get anywhere without a clue, detectives never do, you know."

"That'd be terribly generous of you, Mr Tanner."

"Cory."

"Mr Tanner."

She could tell he was fuming, and wondered if it was wise or not to bait him.

"Feisty, you are. Very well, here's your clue."

Nothing happened, and Sam wondered if he had left. She waited, and waited, unwilling to hang up.

"My dear?"

"Yes, Mr Tanner?"

"How do you like the park?"

The line went dead.

* * *

"'How do you like the park?'" Jennie was bemused. "Is that what he said?" 

"Yeah."

Jennie, Mick and Sam were heading back to the office. Sam had told the two, who had been standing behind her most of the time, what had happened, and they both seemed confused.

"Well, what does it mean?"

"I don't know."

Sam listened to Jennie and Mick with irritation. Wasn't it obvious? "He wants me to go to the park."

"Why?" the two voices asked.

"Hell of I know. For another clue I guess."

"You want to go now?"

Sam peered out the window. It was getting dark.

"No. I want to go in daylight."

Jennie nodded, looking a little pale. "Good idea."

"I'll meet you at the swings at ten tomorrow."

The others in the car nodded their consent as they arrived back at headquarters.

* * *

The next day Sam exited the cab at exactly ten, outside the park gates. She made her way over to the swings. She waited for a while but neither of them showed up. She climbed onto one of the seats and pushed herself off the ground with her feet. 

The swing glided through the air as she shut her eyes and let her legs fly with it. She loved the feeling of the swings. She had not been on one for years. It was something she and Matt had always loved to do together.

Her black hair was in its habitual plait, but she longed to release it and let it fly, like she did when she was younger.

She allowed the swing to slow. When it was swinging just the tiniest bit, and her feet were grazing the ground, she suddenly heard a voice from behind her that sounded hauntingly familiar.

"Hello, my dear. Here all alone?"

"Disappointed?"

"Oh, no, on the contrary, this will make my job so much easier."

She stood and turned quickly, backing away from him. He wore black jeans and a navy sweater. His hair was brown, his hands were gloved and his face was covered with a black mask.

"What job would that be?"

"Why, kidnapping you."

"You think I will just let you kidnap me? There are tons of witnesses here anyway."

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm not going to do it yet."

"Oh, by the way – how's your shoulder?"

He sounded shocked. "How did you know about that?"

"I'm a detective, Mr Tanner, it's my job to be able to see these things. You must have been pretty angry with Kathleen when she stabbed you in the shoulder, making you stagger back into that wall. It must have hurt a lot."

He glowered at her. She stared back at him, and finally spoke again.

"Why are we here?"

"Well, don't you want your second clue?"

"I guess I have no choice."

He chuckled. "Perceptive – that's my girl."

"Well, what is it?"

"Patience, my dear, patience. Your friends have it."

He started backing away.

"What?"

He nodded his head in the direction of the jungle gym. Tied to it, upside-down, were Jennie and Mick, gagged and blindfolded, wriggling desperately, their hands and feet tied.

She wheeled back around to face Cory, but he had gone.

* * *

Jennie was crying dramatically, and Mick was paler than a ghost and rubbing his wrists blindly. 

"You sure you're alright?" He nodded at Sam's enquiry.

Sam made sure neither of them were likely to faint, and that they were not seriously injured, before unfolding the piece of paper that had been taped across Mick's eyes. It had hurt him enormously to get it off.

She read it aloud. "'No. 6. 7.'" The words were followed by a crude sketch of a key in the same red ink as the writing.

They entered the office twenty minutes later, to an excited team. Keith leapt over to Sam, followed a little more sedately by Jake and Alex.

"What happened Samantha? Did you get the clue?" He noticed Jennie's puffy eyes and Mick's bloodied wrists. "What the hell happened to them?"

"Not only did we get a clue, but we ran into Mr Cory Tanner in the flesh."

"Whoa!" Jake's eyes bugged. "What was he like?"

"Dark. He wore a mask."

"Cool."

She frowned at him, and went to sit in his swivel chair that had rolled out into the middle of the floor when he had leaped up. She scooted it in and under his desk, opening the paper on his desk, pushing the jar of lollipops out of the way.

"'No. 6. 7.'"

"They seem to be numbers of something."

She sighed. "Well done Keith."

Alex walked over and put his hand on the desk near the paper. "Building numbers most likely. Apartments, houses, hotel rooms."

"Mm," Jake agreed. "But what does the key mean?"

"Well, you need a key to get through doors to all those places, right?"

Sam shook her head. "No, that's too obvious. The key must mean something. Something to help us solve it."

"Well, what could they be numbers of?"

"Anything. They don't even have to be buildings. They could be anything. Numbers are numbers."

"But why put 'No.' in front?"

"Hm, yeah. They probably are buildings of some sorts' numbers; I'm just looking outside the box here."

Sam had tuned them out. She was staring at the picture of the key. Something was gnawing at the back of her mind, but try as she might, she could not bring it to the fore. A key. Why? What did it mean? Was it a symbol, or a logo for something?

"Well, there's no point hoping the numbers themselves give us an answer. They're too low to be of any help. If they were higher, they would narrow the options."

"So that key must be important."

"Unless he's just trying to confuse us and keep us busy while he kills Miss Allen."

"No." Sam spoke quietly, standing. "He said he won't kill her until he can kill me."

"What!" Jake yelled. "He said _what_?"

Jennie came up to me, her eyes still a little bloodshot. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"I was still processing it."

"Oh, Samantha! That must have terrified you!"

Sam refused to think about it.

"I need a break." She announced. "Can you guys contact the forensics team they sent over, see if they found anything? And keep working on that key. And find out anything you can about our kidnapper." She rubbed her temples. "I need a drink."

_And a nap_, she added silently, but refused to succumb to the urge to go home and do just that. She had not slept well, Cory's words spinning around in her head.

She left the other five scuttling around the room, closing the door softly, and made her way to the Common Room once more. She downed two cups of water this time, and slumped onto the sofa. She felt her eyelids droop, and could not bring herself to reopen them. Her head fell softly to the side.

"Uh, Miss Manson?"

"Sam." She corrected on a reflex, then cracked open an eye reluctantly to scowl at whoever had disturbed her. It was Danny.

She sat up. "Hi Danny," she greeted, struggling to contain a yawn.

"Sleepy?"

"Hell yeah."

"Lumpy mattress?"

"No. I wish." He sat next to her, looking intrigued.

"What was it then?"

"I got a call yesterday. A woman begged me for help, and then the line went dead. We researched her, found where she lived. When we were there, the kidnapper called and threatened me. He said he would kill her when he kills me."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She grunted, stretching her legs out in front of her. She pulled her long plait round over her shoulder and played with the end of it like she did when she was little.

"That's got to be tough. But don't worry; I know you'll be okay."

"How?"

"Got a feeling."

"How reassuring."

He grinned. "So what are you taking a break from?"

"How do you know I'm taking a break?"

"The nap on the couch was a bit of a giveaway."

"Ah. I met him today."

"Who?"

"Cory Tanner. The kidnapper. At the park. He gave us a clue."

"To what?"

"We think it's to where he's hiding Kathleen Allen."

"But you haven't figured it out yet?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"A piece of paper." She recited the numbers. "And a drawing of a key."

"Like, an old fashioned type of key?"

"Yeah. What other type of key is there?"

"I don't know. A card key?"

"I guess."

"Hey," she looked at him. His tawny eyes looked concerned. "You need to relax. Don't think about it too much and you'll figure it out."

"Thanks, Danny."

"When did I agree to being called Danny?"

"When you refused to be called 'Fentonio'."

"Oh, I see."

Suddenly the kettle clicked and steamed to indicate that it was done.

"That's me," Danny announced, leaping over to it. He poured six mugs of coffee and tea, gathered them all up in his huge hands, and turned to the door. Sam rose and gave him an incredulous look.

"Thirsty?"

He glanced at the mugs, then at her, a grin breaking out on his face. "No, I'm the official drinks-bearer of our unit."

She smiled at him.

"I guess I'll be seeing you a lot down here then."

"I guess so. Goodbye Sam."

"Bye Danny." She turned to throw away the cup, then realized that, again, she had not asked him where he worked. She wheeled around but, once more, he was gone. She sighed. Well, at least she knew that he was in a unit, whichever one it was. He was not a janitor.

She returned to the office in time to be practically tackled by Jennie.

"Sam! Sam! You will _never _guess what we found!"

"Probably not." Jennie was gripping her shoulders and shaking her, jerking her neck uncomfortably.

"Sam!"

"Yes?" She asked, beginning to get annoyed.

Jennie stopped the shaking, and now Sam noticed that she was actually shaking herself. Something was wrong. "Sam, the red writing on the note? It isn't ink."

* * *

**ew. REVIEW!!!! constructive critism is, as always, appreciated.**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


	6. Five: Photo

**A/N - i. do. not. own. danny. phantom. but i own whatever you dont recognize.**

* * *

_Five_: Photo

* * *

_Oh my God_. The little voice inside her head screamed denial. 

"Blood?"

Jennie nodded slowly.

"Kathleen's."

"Yes."

Sam took a deep breath. "Have you contacted the forensics team yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Actually, their team leader is here. He wanted to talk to us personally, but we wanted to wait until you came back."

"Why didn't you come get me?"

"Well, you looked as though you could use a break."

"Thanks."

"No problem. But we're dying to hear what they found so…."

The two women walked over to where the four men in their team were standing, with another man Sam did not recognize. He wore a grey suit under a pristine lab coat.

"So what did you find?" Sam asked.

"The blood on the wall is that of a man."

"Cory Tanner?"

"We checked after one of your teammates mentioned the name, and the answer is yes. The hair on the floor definitely belonged to Kathleen Allen, as do the fingerprints on the phone."

"Yes I gathered that. Did you find anything new?"

"Nothing big, but we did find traces of seawater on the hair sample."

"Seawater?"

"Maybe she had gone in the sea or something." Keith offered. They all looked at him, shocked that someone could actually say something that obvious.

"Is that all?" Mick asked, as Jake and Jennie continued to gape at Keith, who began to look very disconcerted.

"I'm afraid so."

"Thank you," Sam said, shaking the man's hand.

"You're welcome. And good luck with the case."

Sam inclined her head to him in gratitude.

* * *

Paperwork on the case swamped the team for the rest of the day. By the time Sam opened her front door, she was very ready to keel over. But instead, she fell over. 

She grunted, her nose pressed into the carpet.

"Ow," she moaned, heaving herself up, though she would have been perfectly content to lie there and sleep, had her feet not been sticking out of her front door. Her hand rested on something that was not carpet as she pushed her body up.

She looked down at what she had slipped on. The culprit was a manila envelope.

"Perfect," she groused, standing and taking the envelope, reaching over to close the door. "Homework. I swear I did all my paperwork earlier."

She peeled open the seal as she threw her keys and her bag onto the hall table. She sat on a stool by the kitchen counter and pulled the contents out. She spread them out on the table.

The first was a piece of paper with red writing on it.

Her heart plummeted. She picked up the note, painstakingly careful not to touch the writing, and read it aloud to herself.

"'Have you solved it yet?'"

She set it down slowly and looked at the other piece of paper. It was A4, but had nothing on it, so she picked it up gingerly. It was thicker than normal paper, and she turned it over, having to fight not to drop it when she saw what was on it.

It was a black and white photograph of her, side-on to the camera, as she entered the FBI building earlier that day.

* * *

The rest of the team was gathered around Jennie's desk, which was in the middle of all of theirs. She held the photo in her hands and they were all staring at it, dumbfounded. Sam sat at her own desk, arms folded, feet firmly planted on the floor, breathing steadily. Bags had formed under her eyes from the sleepless night. Getting up and checking all the windows and the door were still locked. Waiting for a noise to start her into action. Checking the locks again. 

She rose slowly. She needed to get out – to be away from that photo. She planned on walking slowly to the door, but in the end her gait was something of a restrained canter. She entered the Common Room with the door banging against the wall behind her. Several people looked up; in annoyance, surprise, indifference. She did not care. She got some water from the dispenser and sank onto the couch, cupping the glass in her shaking hands.

This was not like her. She hated being so afraid. She was never afraid. She sipped the water calmly. It suddenly occurred to her that there was one person not in here from the usual crowd.

The person she most needed to see.

She looked, dejected, down at the water in the cup. This inaction was killing her. They had so many clues, leads, but they could not do anything with them. Danny had told her to relax. She tried. She willed herself to calm down. She did not think it worked, but at least now she was doing something.

She turned her head. A newspaper was lying next to her on the couch. She had not noticed it when she came in. In fact, she was certain it had not been there.

"Goes to show how tired I am." She muttered.

Nothing was duller than a newspaper. What better way to relax? She reached over and retrieved the paper. The headline was strange.

"'Phantom Saves Police'. What the hell do they mean by 'phantom'?"

She read the article, intrigued. She gathered that the Phantom was some sort of town hero, like an unofficial police officer, who often showed up at crime scenes. According to the paper, he was some sort of superhero with ghost-like powers, and who was always in the right place at the right time. He got the name because nobody had ever really met him. He appeared, helped, then disappeared. The only photo they had of him was a CCTV camera image, which was terrible. They had included it in the article.

From what she could see, the Phantom was a light-haired figure, dressed all in black, apart from some dashes of lighter color at various places on his outfit. The photo was black and grey, and horribly grainy, which made everything hard to see.

She scowled. He looked like a freak to her. If he wanted to catch criminals, he should join the forces. He was just making the police look bad. She crumpled up the paper and tossed it back onto the couch. She sat there, fuming a little over her discovery, then looked over at the paper again. Suddenly one of the words caught her eye.

She stretched out her hand slowly to grasp the corner of the page, pulling it towards her and un-crumpling it as best she could. It was filled with ads, but her eye moved directly to the one on the far left middle.

She read it quietly to herself. "'Job opening to work forklift at the Mirage quays, please call…'" her voice trailed off, and she stared at one word.

Quay. _Quay_. "Oh my God," she mouthed, before leaping up to her feet, sending the cup flying, not knowing where, and sprinting at full speed back to the office.

"The quay!" she shouted as she burst into the room. The bored faces in the room snapped up in surprise at her impromptu entrance.

"The key what, Sam?" Jennie asked, her brow furrowed.

Sam ran over to the note that still resided on Jennie's desk. She picked it up, staring at the picture of the key. She wheeled round and pointed it out to her teammates.

"The key! We thought it meant k-e-y," she spelled it out as her comrades' eyes started to widen with understanding. "But it means the q-u-a-y! The quay! That's why there was seawater on the hair – Tanner must have had some on his hands."

"Yes!" Alex said, punching the air. "There are ten warehouses down there, it must mean number 6!"

"Let's go!" Keith said, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth, the first time Sam had ever seen him do so.

* * *

Mick stopped the car at the Mirage quays, and he and Jake popped out of the front two seats, while Sam, Jennie, Alex and Keith fell out of the back, where they had been squashed. They were all armed, and had earpieces and microphones. 

Sam felt a rush of adrenaline. This was what she loved, the thrill of the capture, the triumph, the arrest. It was what made her job worthwhile.

They ran towards the enormous warehouse that had a massive '6' over the double doors. The team stared at the towering doors and, by mutual assent, split into three pairs and went looking for another entrance.

Sam and Jennie skirted the right side of the building, while the four men took the left and the back. Sam spotted a small door and motioned to Jennie to come with her.

"We've found a door, over" she whispered into her glove, where a small microphone was concealed. She heard some crackling, then an acknowledgement, and she was informed that Jake and Keith had found one too.

Sam drew her gun, waiting until Jennie had done the same, and then opened the door. She slipped inside, thankful for their dark clothing in the badly lit building. It was cavernous, but filled almost to the brim with crates. Kathleen could easily be in any one of them.

_Well, nobody said this was going to be easy_, Sam told herself. She looked upwards slightly, and noticed a large sign with the number twelve written on it, swinging above her head. She looked down again and noticed that the crates seemed to be in aisles.

She whispered her finding into her glove. "We're going to aisle seven, over."

She beckoned to Jennie, and the two women slunk along the crates, making their way over to aisle seven. They reached it, and Sam took a deep breath. The two whipped around the corner, guns pointed ahead of them.

No-one was there.

Sam felt a sick feeling twisting in her stomach. _Fear_. She fought it, pushing it back into the recesses of her mind, where it belonged.

But it all came flooding back when the voice that was burned into her mind sounded beside her.

"About time, my dear."

* * *

**eek that guy creeps me out...one final chapter...REVIEW FOR IT TO COME FASTER!!!!!**

**(for those of you asking - there is fluff in the next chapter!!!)**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


	7. Six: Phantom

**A/N - i STILL don't own dp or anything related.**

**last chapter!!!! aw**

* * *

_Seven_: Phantom

* * *

Jennie shrieked. Sam turned her head. 

Cory was standing on top of one of the crates, in front and to the side of the two women. He wore normal jeans this time, with a cream polo neck. He had forgone the mask. His face was twisted cruelly, and Sam could not help but remember the threat he had made against her.

_I am going to kill you, my dear_._ And then, then, when you die – so will she_.

She pointed her gun right at his head.

"Oh, you won't shoot me will you?" He jumped down from the crate and walked over to her, stopping ten feet away. "No, I don't think you will."

"How can you be so sure?" She growled, cocking the gun.

"Well, if you kill me, Samantha, how will you ever find Kathleen?"

"I never gave you permission to call me that."

He grinned. "No, no you didn't. Then again, you didn't give me permission to kill you either, but that won't stop me, now will it?"

"Knowing your sick mind, I'm guessing it won't."

"Oh, my, getting rude now are we?"

"Forgive me for not being civil to the man who wants to murder me."

"Okay. You're forgiven. By the way – don't you look just lovely in that photo?"

"Why did you take it, Tanner?"

"To let you know that I was there. That I knew who you were. That I could harm you if I wished. To scare you. It worked."

There was a silence. Sam could hear Jennie's breathing tremble.

"Where is Kathleen?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" He turned and walked away from her.

"Freeze!"

"No." He tossed the word over his shoulder disdainfully. He stopped and reached up over one of the crates. He pulled down a shotgun.

"Oh, my, God," Jennie breathed. Sam took a step forward.

"You won't shoot me with that."

"Oh? How can you be so sure?"

"You're too sick, and that's no fun."

"I'm offended that you hold such a low opinion of me, Samantha."

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I guess I can't." He chuckled.

"Where is Kathleen?"

"You just don't give up do you?" She remained silent. Cory shook his head at her, then walked backwards, beckoning for her to follow. Sam did, assuming that Jennie was following her.

She didn't hear the clicking of the other woman's heels as she rounded the corner, her gun dropped and forgotten.

Cory led her to a control panel on the wall. Sam had little patience at best, and it had all run out now.

"Just tell me where she is, Tanner!" She shouted, raising and cocking her gun. "Tell me which crate she is in!"

"Now why would you assume she was in a crate?"

Sam's heart fell as she looked at the control panel. It controlled the device that ran on tracks along the ceiling and moved around the crates. She looked up.

A blonde, gagged, tied-up woman was strapped to the hook on the device, hanging in the air, fifty feet from the concrete floor. Sam's violet eyes flashed as she turned to Cory.

"You b–"

He raised a finger to cut her off. "Now, now, let's not be rude. Now then, I will give you a fighting chance. You have two minutes to save her, starting," he peered at his watch. "Now."

"How?" Sam gasped. Cory just shrugged.

Sam whipped around, and saw a stack of crates that reached high into the air. Not high enough, but it was her only chance. She ran for it, putting everything she had into reaching those crates as fast as possible. Each one was about five feet high, which occupied her thoughts as she clambered over them, one by one, always another one, until she reached the top and looked out over the whole building.

She saw Kathleen dangling about three feet from where she stood. Sam reached out her hand to grab her, but could not quite reach. She looked at the hook. It was solidly attached to the ropes around Kathleen's waist. No chance of her slipping out.

Sam refused to think about how little time she had left.

She looked above the hook. It was attached to a thick metal cable, which in turn was attached to a kind of metal board. If she could jump and grab that cable, she could unlatch it, and she and Kathleen would fall. She looked down. She could see the rest of her team running towards her and Cory, but she only concentrated on something that was about eight feet below her. It was a crate that stuck out from the others. They would land on that. It would hurt, but they would live.

It only took Sam a few seconds to figure it out, and she braced herself for the jump, not thinking about what would happen if she was to miss her target. She was vaguely aware of her team closing in on Cory below her. Alex slammed into him at exactly the same moment that she leapt into the air.

She floated in the air. Cory fell, his head smacking into the control panel, pressing down one of the levers. Sam saw the metal board that the hook, cable and Kathleen were hanging from move away from her. She fell through the air, grasping into the nothingness.

She felt a feeling of dread spread though her. She was going to fall and she was going to hit the ground, and she was going to die. She moved in the air so her back was facing the ground. She did not want to watch it come nearer. She closed her eyes, blocking out Jennie's screams and the men's shouts.

Suddenly she felt an arm snake under her back, and another one moving under her knees. Her eyes flashed open and met neon green ones. His handsome face was staring devilishly down into hers. No! Not handsome! No! She metally slapped herself when she realized who it was. She recognized him as the man from the newspaper. The Phantom. It figured he would be here, the dick. She wriggled from his grasp, barely registering the fact that they were on the ground, and backed away.

His costume was all black, made of some sort of thick, synthetic fabric, and covered him from head to toe, clinging to his muscular figure. The gloves were white, as were the collar, belt, boots, and some sort of symbol on his chest. His hair was a striking, almost glowing white. His eyes, too, glowed, shining green in his pale face.

But Sam pretended she hadn't noticed any of it.

"Get out of here!" She shouted at him, furiously. "Get out! Stay out of police business! What's the matter with you?"

"You're welcome," he said with a grin, then backed away between the crates. She followed him, her anger and fear rising to the surface.

But he was gone. Faded into the shadows.

She cursed her disappointment, then she cursed him, then made her way back to her team. They had apprehended Cory, and Jennie ran to her, enveloping her in a crushing hug.

"Sam! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, apart from that bastard mauling me."

"Sam!" Jennie sounded shocked. "He saved you!"

"Whatever, he shouldn't have been here. This is government business and he was interfering. What gives him the right to–"

"But he saved your life, Sam! He caught you!"

"And how did he do that?"

"Well, I don't–"

"He's a freak, Jennie. He's bad news."

Jennie smiled.

"Maybe, but he is dreamy."

Sam silently agreed, but pushed down the sentiment and moaned.

"Oh God."

* * *

Kathleen was lowered to the ground, as some police and more agents swarmed the warehouse. Jake untied her, as Jennie took off her gag and blindfold. 

Sam walked over, extending her hand. "Miss Allen? Samantha Manson."

"Oh my God," Kathleen breathed. "I recognize your voice. You're the woman I spoke to on the phone?"

"Yes."

Kathleen started crying. "Thank you," she grabbed Sam, hugging her fiercely. "Thank you so much."

"Just doing my job. I'm glad you're alright. There's just one thing I was wondering." Sam pulled out of the woman's arms. "Why did you call the FBI instead of the police - and how did you know our number?"

"My father made me memorize the FBI number years ago - he was a judge, you see. Always paranoid about criminals." She smiled fondly at his memory. "I called you because the police here are useless, and I thought you might actually be able to help me."

Keith leaned in to Sam. "If she called the main phone number it would be redirected to the first unoccupied line. I guess that was ours."

Sam nodded, smiling reassuringly at the shaking woman before her.

* * *

Unit 615 watched as Cory Tanner was shoved into a police van, cursing them – especially Sam. 

"I'll get you for this Samantha Manson! I swear to God I'll get you!"

Sam repressed a shiver and smiled at the police officer who gave her a reassuring look.

"Don't worry ma'am, he won't escape this time."

She nodded curtly. "Good."

She walked over to the other five members of her team, who stood by Kathleen Allen as she gave the police a full report of her encounter.

"We did good, huh?" She said.

"We sure did," Alex said, punching her shoulder lightly. "You've got a serious hero complex there, jumping for that woman, Samantha."

"Sam."

"Sam." He repeated, somehow knowing that she was honoring him with the permission to use her nickname.

"Oh, well, we never really gave you a nice reception," Mick said. Sam turned to him as he reached out his hand.

"Samantha Manson, welcome to Unit 615."

* * *

**the end. okay, whatcha think? this is the first story of a series, first chapter of next story will be up once i reach 5 reviews for this chapter!!! so review if you liked it!!!!!!!**

**it'll be called 'Mirages'. look out for it!!! and adios!**

**FunkyFish1991 xXx**


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